


Love - As Told By A (Slightly Incompetent) Angel and Demon

by Phoenix_Rose



Series: History - As Described By a (Slightly Incompetent) Angel and Demon [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Some Fluff, They finally get their act together!!, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19409539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Rose/pseuds/Phoenix_Rose
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley were staring at each other, the former desperate and the latter heart-broken.  “My dear,” Aziraphale whispered, “I’m not going to Fall. Not for this.”





	Love - As Told By A (Slightly Incompetent) Angel and Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Edited 13/07/19 to include linked footnotes.

“My dear-”

“Angel.” Crowley’s voice cut him off sharply, brooking no arguments. Anathema froze at the door to the backroom, her hand on the handle. She barely dared to move, to breathe, to think.

“Crowley, I really think-”

“No, Angel. You’ll _Fall_.” [1]

A beat of silence. The door creaked open a little as Anathema removed her hand. [2] Aziraphale and Crowley were staring at each other, the former desperate and the latter heart-broken. “My dear,” Aziraphale whispered, “I’m not going to Fall. Not for this.”

“How do you know?” Crowley shook his head, “How could you _possibly_ know that?”

“If I was going to Fall for loving you,” he said slowly, “it would have happened a long time ago.”

Crowley froze. His expression twitched. Was it hope or despair? Was it both? Or was it something else entirely? “Angel-”

Aziraphale shook her head. “I don’t care. Even if - _if_ \- I Fell, I wouldn’t care.”

“ _Angel_!” [3]

“Crowley, don’t you see? Heaven, Hell, all of Earth - She spent her time well on them, I’m sure. But…” He let out a breath. “Six _thousand_ years, Crowley, and you’re still the best thing that She ever made.” Crowley’s jaw dropped. Aziraphale smiled gently at him and took a step closer. “May I?”

His jaw closed with a snap. He swallowed. His chest had stopped moving; he’d forgotten how to breathe. [4] “I- Y- Yeah.”

Aziraphale, moving slowly, as if to avoid startling some skittish animal, took the glasses from his face and placed them on the table nearby. He stroked his cheek and leaned in half-way, waiting for Crowley to close the gap.

Silently, Anathema closed the door and left the shop. She’d come back tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Anathema could tell immediately that to Fall was capitalised. Unthinkable, unbearable. Whether it would be unbearable for Aziraphale or Crowley, however, she couldn’t tell. Crowley did, somehow, seem more distressed by the idea. [return to text]
> 
> 2 She didn’t mean to watch, not really. She meant to look away. [return to text]
> 
> 3 Before his voice had been careful, just managing the facade of calm. Now it was comically outraged, sharp, surprised. [return to text]
> 
> 4 This wasn’t as uncommon as one might suppose. Breathing didn’t come as naturally to Crowley as it did for humans or even, for that matter, to Aziraphale. He tended to forget it when he was distressed, the same way he forgot to make his eyes that little more human, that little less snake-like. How his tongue would trip and slip its way through words, the forked end too clumsy to deal with human speech. [return to text]


End file.
